


midas is king

by lasciel



Series: Rabbit Heart [2]
Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Altered Mental States, Dirty Talk, Dubious Morality, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 01:58:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4728509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasciel/pseuds/lasciel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yvette raises a finger, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “What if Jack actually  needs an omega and he just doesn't know it yet?”</p><p>Stunned silence, and then Vaughn <i>howls</i> with laughter, hitting Rhys' chest with a fist until he almost topples right off the couch. “Rhys is going to get fucked by Handsome Jack!”</p><p>“I'm revoking our friendship!” Rhys shouts, face hot, and it really doesn't help that Yvette tries to stifle her laughter behind a hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	midas is king

**Author's Note:**

> The self-indulgent prequel to [raise it up](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4673660), because I really, really needed to tell you how it all began. I hope you'll enjoy this, even if it isn't The Heat fic most of you were probably hoping for!
> 
> Vaughn/Rhys/Yvette is heavily implied throughout, because... OT3. /helpless hand wave

Sometimes, Rhys asks himself how he even managed to get himself into this complicated mess that he now calls his life. And then he remembers, oh, right.

It's all Vasquez' fault.

* * *

“Rhys!”

Rhys inhales deeply, making a face. He stops moving down the hallway, and schools his expression before turning around to look at Vasquez.

The alpha is pretty much on the other end of the hallway, and of course he doesn't hasten his steps now that he has Rhys waiting on him. Actually, it seems like Vasquez is actually _slowing down_. Rhys scowls, clutching Henderson's reports closer to his chest.

Vasquez smiles, coming to a stop _right_ on where Rhys draws the line for his personal space bubble.

Rhys forces himself to nod, voice toneless. “Vasquez.”

The edges of Vasquez' mouth curl up even further, and combined with his scent, intense and persistent as always, it's enough to raise Rhys' hackles.

“Rhys,” Vasquez says again, drawing it out, almost making it sound as if they are _buddies_.

For a moment he thinks about just repeating Vasquez' name, because it's obvious that the alpha wants for Rhys to ask what he wants. It wouldn't be the first time they'd come to a stalemate, but Rhys does actually have work to do, and Henderson is waiting for these reports. He sighs inwardly, pointedly straightening his posture and looking down at Vasquez. “What do you want?”

There's nothing in Hyperion's bylaws that says omegas need to be deferential to anyone, and he's got enough practice by now to ignore the small voice inside of his head that is insisting he should bend his neck to the alpha. Say what you want about Handsome Jack, but he doesn't care what you are as long as you do your job.

As always, Vasquez isn't happy by his refusal to submit. The fake smile falls from his lips, replaced by something like a snarl. He shakes his head, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Rhys, why are you being so rude to me? I just wanted to share the great news with you, you know, share the good mood.” The frown on his face deepens. “And here you are again, slapping away the hand I offer to you in friendship.”

Rhys really, really wants to roll his eyes, somehow still amazed at what a pompous and dramatic asshole Vasquez is. But Vasquez' scent is cloying now, making his skin itch. He doesn't apologise, because the only time he'll ever apologise to Vasquez will be purely ironically and on the day he steps over his cooling corpse. “What do you want?” he asks again, speaking slow and enunciating every word as if talking to a small child.

Vasquez sighs deeply, shakes his head again. Then the wide smile is back on his lips, just like that, and something like worry settles heavily in Rhys' stomach. “You can congratulate me on my new position as Henderson's PA.” He takes the reports from Rhys' numb fingers, laughs. “I'm going to take care of these for you.” He leans in closer to Rhys, close enough that Rhys has to force himself to keep very still. Vasquez' voice drops into a whisper, every word like an intrusive touch on Rhys' skin. “It's only a matter of time until I have Henderson's position, and let me tell you, Rhys.” He chuckles, and the sound makes Rhys' skin _crawl_ , right off his body. “I can't _wait_ to be your boss.”

Forget about worry. The feeling in Rhys' stomach goes right past serious concern into panic-tinged anger. Vasquez. Henderson's PA. That was supposed to be _his_ promotion. He'd been working close with Henderson for months now, and he'd thought—

Shit, Vasquez' knows that he got under his skin and is now looking even more like a smug douchebag than usual, and he's still so damn _close_. The alpha isn't even into him, probably not even into guys, but as always, that thought fails completely to make Rhys feel any better. He doesn't even really remember how they first butted their heads together, but Vasquez has been his archnemesis for as long as he can recall. What did Vaughn call this weird think Vasquez had for him once? Right, a hate-boner. Rhys winces, wishing he could forget those words again right away.

He curls his metal fingers into a fist, plasters on a smile even faker than Vasquez'. “Congratulations!” he says loudly, pleased when the alpha winces, finally leaning back again. He gives Vasquez' shoulder a pat, winking at him. “Hope you'll quickly master getting down his coffee order right, I hear he's very particular about how he takes it.”

Vasquez stares at him for a long moment, eyes hard, jaw set. “Assistant Vice Janitor Rhys. Has a ring to it, doesn't it?” he asks very quietly.

Rhys holds the smile on his face, doesn't care if it looks more like a grimace. “I shouldn't keep you any longer, Vasquez. I'm sure you've got a lot of _assisting_ to do.” He turns around, walking away at an even pace, not too quickly, not too slowly, because Rhys is choosing to remove himself from this situation, and that doesn't mean the alpha won. He breathes in the Vasquez-free air happily, grinning to himself. 

Promotion notwithstanding, this round is totally going to Rhys. And hey, at least this time he didn't have to hear Vasquez make any weird maybe-innuendos.

“You've got balls, Rhys, turning your back to me,” Vasquez calls after him, “I've always liked that about you. Can't wait to have those balls working under me!”

…so much for that. Rhys closes his eyes, puts his left hand on his face, definitely not looking at the other people around them.

He decides not to deign that with an answer, because he's the bigger man here, and _not_ because he's pretty sure that if he opened his mouth right now he'd only end up screaming.

* * *

He manages to put the encounter with Vasquez away into the very back of his mind until it's just an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach, easy enough to ignore.

At least until they're on Yvette's ridiculously large couch, Rhys lying on one long side of it, Yvette on the other and Vaughn spread out over both of them, his feet in Yvette's lap and his head resting on Rhys'.

Yvette's reading a magazine about Aquator and Vaughn has his eyes closed, sighing from time to time while Rhys' fingers massage his scalp.

It's a familiar, comfortable silence between them, and all Rhys can think about is how he let his friends down. It was supposed to be _his_ promotion, meant to bring all three of them closer to something as close as possible to secure in Hyperion's tumultuous waters. He's still trying to figure out how to broach the subject when Vaughn blinks his eyes open and stares up at him. “Alright. Before I turn to jelly in your hands: Spit it out, bro.”

Rhys bites his lip. He inhales deeply, saying in a rush, “Vasquez got promoted.”

“Woohoo,” Yvette says drily, turning to the next page.

Vaughn hums thoughtfully. “Again? Wonder what he did this time to get it.”

Rhys swallows, stares at his fingers, still curled in Vaughn's hair. “Don't know, but he's now Henderson's assistant,” he mumbles.

It's very, very quiet while that sinks in.

Vaughn whistles, looking wide awake. “Okay, now I _really_ wonder what he did this time.”

“Probably blackmail, there's been rumours that Henderson's been involved in some iffy business,” Yvette says thoughtfully, putting her magazine away.

Rhys glances at her out of the corners of his eyes. There are deep lines on her forehead, and Rhys looks away again quickly. She must be so disappointed in him, and rightfully so. Rhys can't even pull his own weight, he's only dragging them down—

Vaughn pats his leg, scowls. “That was _your_ promotion, you've been working your ass off to get it and he just walks in and steals it from you!” He blows out a breath. “I hate that guy.”

The ugly pressure in his chest eases slightly. He glances hesitantly at Yvette again, who's now scooting closer.

She takes his metal arm, places it over her shoulder, and presses herself against his side, her temple against his. “Let me guess, he cornered you to tell you personally, and to gloat about it?”

He nods, voice quiet. “Yeah.”

Yvette sighs. “Did he make it weird again?”

Rhys grimaces, absently touching Vaughn's hair. “Oh, yeah. He can't wait to have my balls working under him.”

Vaughn purses his lips, sing-songs, “Hate-boner.”

Rhys whines, taps Vaughn's forehead with one finger. “ _Please_ stop saying that, you're going to give me nightmares.”

Vaughn grins, completely unapologetic, and next to Rhys, Yvette shudders. “I don't know what it is about him, but he makes my skin crawl.”

Rhys really does have the best friends in the entire world. He breathes a bit easier, tension seeping out of him.

Vaughn closes his eyes again, shrugging with one shoulder. “Well, at least there's still Henderson between you and him.”

That's right. And Henderson _likes_ Rhys, even if he didn't give him the promotion. Rhys isn't in any danger, at least not right now.

Yvette makes a small sound in the back of her throat. “Honestly, that doesn't make me any less unconcerned about this development.”

So much about feeling better. Rhys' muscles tense again. “What do you mean?”

She seems to think about her answer for a moment. “I know you like Henderson,” she says carefully, “but he's simply not made to be the head of a division. At least not in Hyperion.”

“Hey, betas can be leaders, too!” Vaughn's looking at her indignantly, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Rhys leans away from her slightly, just enough so that he can look at her face. “Why? He's good at his job and he treats his subordinates well.” He can't help it, he's peeved by her words. Henderson was never weird about Rhys being an omega or about his cybernetic enhancements.

Yvette sighs, smiling crookedly. “Exactly. He's too nice. It was only a matter of time until someone like Vasquez came along and started to saw at his chair.”

Rhys kind of wants to get up and curl himself into a miserable ball in a corner of Yvette's living room, but he also _really_ needs to stay right there, wedged in between his friends. “Vasquez is going to make me Assistant Vice Janitor,” he says numbly. Shit, he's completely fucked.

Vaughn hits the couch with an open palm, curses.

“It might get even worse,” Yvette says quietly, placing both of her hand on Vaughn's legs. She glance at Rhys again. “Whatever this... weird.. thing is he's got for you, it's probably only a matter of time until he's not satisfied anymore with only taking it out on you.”

“Oh man, you think he'll come for us next?” Vaughn groans. “Doesn't he have any hobbies?”

Rhys tilts his head back against the couch, staring morosely at the ceiling. “Great. And now what?” he asks the room at large.

The answering silence is not very reassuring.

After some time, Yvette says carefully, “There might be... another opportunity.”

Vaughn and Rhys turn their hopeful gazes to her.

She's frowning again, fingers tapping absently on Vaughn's legs, looking at nothing in particular. “Handsome Jack is apparently in the middle of a midlife crisis right now.”

Rhys laughs, stopping instantly when Yvette hits his hip, frowning at him. “Oh, sorry, I thought you were trying to cheer us up.”

Yvette raises an eyebrow. “No, I'm serious. He's been getting grey hairs and is not dealing with it particularly well.”

Vaughn grins. “How do you know that? Have you been hanging out with our fearless and maniacal leader and just forgot to tell us?”

Yvette snorts, shakes her head. “Yes, Jack and I, we're like this.” She crosses two of her fingers. “I'm only still spending time with you two losers because it gets so unbelievingly boring in my vacation villa on Aquator.”

Rhys snorts and Vaughn points a finger at her, laughing. “Wow, rude.”

She ignores them, her voice wistful. “The villa has three bedrooms, two swimming pools, and the best view on the entire planet.”

“You know, I think we've lost her,” Rhys tells Vaughn sadly.

Vaughn chuckles, nodding solemnly. “We had no chance against the amazing view.”

Yvette closes her eyes, sighing happily. Then she visibly collects herself, entirely serious once more. “He's been ordering conditioner more expensive than every piece of furniture in our apartments together. Plus, he's also been ordering a lot of... physical entertainment lately, and even fucked a considerable number of Hyperion employees, if rumours are to be believed.”

Vaughn rolls his eyes. “You can probably disregard half of these 'lucky' Hyperion guys and girls right away as really bad cases of wishful thinking.”

Yvette nods, one corner of her mouth raised. “Probably more than half of them.”

Rhys hums, smiles slightly. He can totally understand daydreaming about being taken to bed by Handsome Jack. If the man is even half as, well, handsome as the posters promise, even half as charismatic as the ECHO recordings of him... it's probably an experience of a lifetime. Something to tell your children, and your children's children about.

He blinks, startled when both Vaughn and Yvette's faces are suddenly right in front of him, wearing twin expressions of open glee.

“Bro, that was the _dreamiest_ sound I've ever heard.” Vaughn bumps his fist against Rhys' ribs, grinning widely “You've got it so bad for him.”

Yvette shakes her head, grinning as well. “At this point, I think it's not even simple hero worship anymore.”

Rhys sniffs, grumbles, “You're only lying to yourself when you pretend that you don't have at least a _small_ crush on him.”

Vaughn groans. “You sound like one of those terrible motivational posters!”

He turns to Yvette again, tries to get them back on track. “Okay, so what opportunity were you talking about, and what does Jack jumping every alpha and beta on Helios have to do with it?”

“I didn't say he was only bedding alphas and betas,” Yvette says sweetly.

Rhys draws his shoulders up, mumbles defensively, “I catch some of the rumours too, you know.” And if Rhys has spent entire nights bemoaning Handsome Jack's apparent disinterest in omegas, well, that's only between him and his pillow.

“Bro, you've got it _so bad_.” Vaughn bumps his side once more.

Oh my god, he has he worst friends in history. “Are you trying to say that you or Vaughn will try to get into his bed?” Rhys asks, probably sounding a bit desperate by now. “He's really into female alphas, right?”

“Look at all that fanboy knowledge,” Vaughn practically crows, “you're not fooling anyone, you know.”

Rhys pokes Vaughn's stomach non too gently, pleading with his eyes for Yvette to finally take pity on him.

She leaves him hanging for a bit longer, obviously still amused by seeing him squirm. Then she shakes her head. “I considered that, but then I wondered if maybe he's so relentless in his pursuit of the next bed partner because he isn't getting what he really needs out of them.”

Rhys and Vaughn are quiet, listening intently.

Yvette raises a finger, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “What if Jack actually needs an omega and he just doesn't know it yet?”

Stunned silence, and then Vaughn _howls_ with laughter, hitting Rhys' chest with a fist until he almost topples right off the couch. “Rhys is going to get fucked by Handsome Jack!”

“I'm revoking our friendship!” Rhys shouts, face hot, and it really doesn't help that Yvette tries to stifle her laughter behind a hand.

* * *

The Plan is this: Yvette heard from a colleague who heard from _somebody_ that Handsome Jack sometimes likes to take a relaxing stroll in one of the more removed parks on Helios. Which sounds weird to Rhys, but Jack is a mysterious, complex man, so he accepts this at face value.

Rhys is going to linger in the park whenever possible, because Handsome Jack's working hours are unpredictable and rumoured to actually just span across the entire day, every day.

Once Handsome Jack shows his face, Rhys is going to _subtly_ throw himself at him, get Jack's large and skilled hands all over his body, and then Vaughn, Yvette and Rhys are going to live happily ever after in filthy, glorious luxury.

There's just a bit of a disagreement about what he should be wearing.

“We're not sending Rhys out in _that_!” Vaughn points at the shorts in Yvette's hands as if they've personally offended him.

Yvette crosses her arms in front of her chest, unimpressed by Vaughn's outburst, “He has the legs for them. It'd be asinine not to show them off.”

Vaughn mimics Yvette's posture, his scowl deepening. “No.”

Rhys is looking at them upside down from where he's lying on his bed, surrounded by pretty much his entire wardrobe by now. He's only wearing his pants, still a bit miffed that all of _his_ suggestions were summarily dismissed, so having his friends finally disagreeing now gives him no small amount of pleasure. But it's also not getting them anywhere, and he's actually feeling a bit impatient about setting The Plan in motion. 

Rhys' spent years and way too much time making up scenarios in his head about how he would woo Handsome Jack on a chance encounter to think that anything will come out of this, but he's fine with humouring his friends. Plus, it's a nice distraction from the entire Vasquez situation, and it's actually really flattering that Yvette thinks Rhys would honestly have a chance with _Handsome Jack_.

Also, Yvette just happens to be right. He has _amazing_ legs. So Rhys stretches them up in the air, left palm on his calf, one metal finger placed delicately on his mouth as if he's posing for 'Obedient omegas'. “Vaughn,” he whines, drawing the name out until it sounds almost obscene, and both of his friends turn to face him immediately. Rhys trails his left hand slowly down his smooth leg, eyes half shut. “Don't you think that I have pretty legs?”

Both Vaughn and Yvette are silent for a moment, and Rhys has to bite his tongue to keep the laughter safely tucked inside of his chest.

Vaughn exhales loudly, his ears red. He turns around, muttering darkly to himself. 

Yvette chuckles, shaking her head, but Rhys is pretty sure there's also a hint of a blush on her cheeks. “You're terrible, Rhys.”

Rhys bats his eyelashes at her, and then the laughter bursts free. He curls into himself, both arms around his stomach, shaking with the intensity of it.

“Fine! Go throw yourself at the wolves only wearing this sorry excuse for a _belt_ , see if I care!” Vaughn calls, and Rhys dissolves into helpless giggles.

Somebody throws the shorts at Rhys, managing to hit him in the face with them.

* * *

Vaughn exaggerates. The shorts aren't actually that short. They don't even show his ass when he bends down, he's tested that extensively. There's looking for sex and then there's _looking_ for sex, and Rhys usually wears these when he's feeling the former. They're yellow, 'Hyperion' outlined in stark, black letters on the back of them, and yes, fine. They're really tacky but Rhys still loves them shamelessly, okay? Enough so that he bought them in different sizes.

He isn't worried. While nobody on Helios can say that they're working for a morally upstanding company with a straight face, Hyperion has no chill when it comes to sexual harassment of any kind. Straight out, deadly violence? If it's for the benefit of the company, go right ahead! But if there's even a hint of anything sexual to it, you better be prepared to get murdered within an inch of your life.

Rhys always really liked that about Hyperion.

For the first few days he strolls around the park, actually kind of enjoying the time he spends there. It's not as carefully designed as the other ones on Helios. Sure, there's still a lot of grey and golden metal, but the greenery seems to be mostly left to its own devices, without looking like it's growing wild.

Rhys picks one of the more removed benches for himself, enjoying the view of endless space and the white stars dotted everywhere. He rests his legs there when he's tired of standing around like a pretty statue.

Vaughn and Yvette check in with him regularly over the ECHO eye, but it's still really boring when he isn't actually allowed to accept any of the hook up offers.

* * *

After two weeks, the park loses some of its charm, even though Rhys would still rather spend his time here than at work.

Henderson's looking more and more harried every day while Vasquez only looks smugger than usual.

Rhys doesn't know which one he finds more unsettling.

He's actually taken to jogging a bit through the park now, just to stave off the boredom and nervousness.

“See, already one good thing to come out of this,” Vaughn tells him over his ECHO, and Rhys sniffs, settling in for another boring evening.

* * *

He catches Henderson crying in his office on the next day. One shared look and they both agree that Rhys didn't see anything. 

Rhys feels bad for Henderson, he really does, but Rhys doesn't only have his own life to worry about, but also the lives of his best friends, and there will never be anything more important than them.

He's wearing the _really_ short 'Hyperion' shorts only a few hours later, mindful not to let Vaughn see him before he leaves their apartment.

* * *

“Bro, I'm going with whoever tries to pick me up next, no matter if they're anyone important or not.” Rhys really needs to work off some stress, and the offers he got so far weren't half bad.

Yvette sighs into his ear. “Rhys.” There's an admonishing undertone to her voice. “Don't forget why you're there.”

Rhys snorts, leaning against a tree. Easy for _her_ to say. She's probably lounging on Vaughn's bed with him, and eating snacks while he's out here. A cautious look reveals that he's still alone in his corner of the park. “Yvette,” he says drily, “I think it's about time you acknowledge that your colleague might have been wrong.”

There' a silence from the other end, and then Vaughn says, “With that pessimistic attitude you'll never get into bed with Handsome Jack.”

“I hate you both,” Rhys informs him happily, perking up because there's a guy approaching him with purposeful steps.

Rhys slouches a bit further against the tree, stretching his legs out, one hand in front of his face as if he's yawning. “Hush, now, it's game time.” He checks unobtrusively if the black, high cut tank top covers his blue chest tattoo completely, because he's learned a long time ago that his neck tattoo is enough to put some people off.

“Okay, you can have this one.” Yvette huffs. “But do remember what The Plan is.”

“Yes, Ma'am,” Rhys answers earnestly. The guy is still far enough away that it shouldn't be too obvious, and Rhys activates his ECHO eye, just so he has an idea of what he's in for.

'Leander, beta, 31 years old, security', are the bare bones he gets, which means 'Leander' is still new enough to Helios to be considered fresh meat. It usually doesn't take long before the Hyperion databases collect the _really_ juicy information about you, and Rhys doesn't have the time to access another one right now. He deactivates the ECHO eye again once the beta is close enough, because for some reason people tend to be weirded out when Rhys accesses info about them that they made public knowledge themselves.

“Hi,” Leander says in greeting, a pretty smile on his mouth. He has dark hair, brown eyes, and is wearing a very nice suit that shows off his build.

Rhys smiles as well, only nodding in answer. Don't want to make it _too_ easy, after all.

“I couldn't help but notice your...” Leander pauses, eyes practically caressing Rhys' legs while they slowly trail up them until he's looking at Rhys' face again. “Eyes,” Leander finishes, grinning now.

Kind of cheesy, but not too bad. Rhys will take it. In his ear, Vaughn makes a retching noise. “Wow, what a douchebag.”

Rhys ignores the unwanted backseat commentary with the practice of many, many years.

* * *

'Leander, please call me Lee' is a good catch. He's only been at Hyperion for a couple of weeks and is still impressed by all of it.

Rhys remembers feeling like that, and he really kind of misses it.

They make small talk for a while, nothing too personal. Lee doesn't ask about Rhys' neck tattoo even though his eyes fall on it fairly often, which Rhys appreciates. Lee is interested in his robotics, but not too interested, which is a good sign. The ones with robot fetishes are always worse than the ones who judge Rhys for them.

Lee keeps unobtrusively touching him — arms, upper leg, getting his scent on Rhys. It might as well be a shouted declaration, and Lee smells strongly but nice enough, so it's alright.

Rhys is just about to ask Lee if they should move this elsewhere, when Lee asks, “So, the cool arm. Does it come off?”

Rhys touches the metal arm absently, ignoring the wariness pooling in his stomach. He nods. “Yeah, sure, it does.”

Lee laughs, sounding too casual. “Would be pretty awkward to keep it on during sex, right?”

Rhys stiffens, keeping his face carefully blank. Awkward. Right. He shrugs, curling his metal fingers into fist and raising it. “Yeah, I'd probably just end up hitting my bed partner with it again,” he answers earnestly, looking at it thoughtfully for a few seconds before turning around and walking away.

At least Leander gets the hint and doesn't follow him.

“Yvette left a while ago, and I've got this douchebag's account open. Let's see what kind of havoc I can wreak on it,” Vaughn says quietly.

He smiles wanly, even though Vaughn can't see it. “Thanks, bro, but he's not worth it. Yvette might never leave us unsupervised again if we get into trouble because of something like this.” Even though he _really_ likes Vaughn's idea. Damn, being the responsible one really sucks. Is this how Yvette feels with them all the time?

“Are you going to come home now?” Vaughn asks hesitantly.

Rhys sighs. He's... disappointed. Angry, but mostly _restless_ , as if his skin is itching. He _hates_ feeling like this. “No, I'm going to jog for a bit.” He tries to sound cheerful when he adds, “Still have to burn off that energy, you know.”

Vaughn knows him well enough to see right through his bullshit, but he doesn't call Rhys out on it. “Alright, I'm going to be around in case you need anything.”

He inhales deeply, wishing Vaughn's support would be enough to make him feel better. “Thanks, bro.” He starts on a fast jog, more of a run, really. 

Rhys doesn't make it very far. His left leg seizes up almost immediately, because that's just how his life is right now.

He curses viciously under his breath, limping over to the closest bench and leaning against the back of it.

“Hey, you okay?” There's open concern in Vaughn's voice, and Rhys forces out a clipped, “Cramp.”

“I'm going to take a look at our emergency ice cream rations for when you get back,” Vaughn answers immediately, and if Rhys could make his mouth work properly, he'd confess his unending love to him right here, right now.

He hisses instead, griping his upper leg with both hands. It hurts, a sharp, undeniable pain, and isn't that just perfectly fitting for his entire situation?

Vasquez is going to kick him, and then Yvette and Vaughn right off of the wobbly Hyperion ladder to success, and then he'll probably saw off a few rungs of it just to make it all the more impossible for them to ever climb back up again.

He lets his head thud against the top of the backrest of the bench. And he can't even get _laid_ , because people suck. At least it's late enough for the park to be pretty much deserted. He really doesn't need anyone seeing him like this. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, both from the throbbing pain in his leg and the unfairness of it all.

Rhys barely swallows the startled scream when fingers suddenly dig into his calves, stroking down with enough force to make him almost keel over.

“It helps when you just grit your teeth and push the cramp out,” a deep voice says behind him, and even though the leg is already hurting less than before, all Rhys can think is this:

Somebody's touching him like it's their given _right_ , without his permission.

Leander called Rhys' metal arm weird, didn't he? Well, Rhys is going to give him _weird_.

The intrusive fingers leave his skin again after only a handful of seconds have passed, and Rhys wheels around, going for the asshole's neck.

The guy doesn't even flinch, but it makes sense for him not to be fazed even a little by this.

Because Rhys' metal fingers are curled around Handsome Jack's throat. Rhys whimpers soundlessly.

Jack's bend forward slightly, staring at the elbow joints of Rhys' metal arm, no emotion visible on his mask. “Well,” he says slowly, and Rhys lets go of him, flinching back as if burned.

For one moment he thinks about diving behind the bench, just to have _something_ between himself and the most dangerous man on Helios, even if it's only—

Jack's impassive gaze settles on his face, and Rhys freezes, heart beating right out of his chest. Jack stands then, legs apart, imposing even though he's slightly smaller than Rhys. He's still staring at Rhys, not even looking down when one of his hands moves to the other arm, touching the mini-computer there. “I just want you to know that there's now three turrets aimed at you,” Jack says calmly, just as Vaughn's voice rings in his head, sounding faint. “Is that Handsome— I'm getting Yvette!”

Rhys barely even registers Vaughn's words, ECHO eye already whirling into life as he twists his head from left to right, scanning for the turrets. Who has turrets in a _park_? he thinks as he spots the first one to his right, raised above a tree, and another one in a hedge behind him. He answers the question himself right away: Hyperion, of course. Specifically, Handsome Jack, who is going to kill him now.

He finds the third turret on the high ceiling above his head, and Jack says, “Come on, kiddo, no begging, no pathetic last words before my three babies fill you with lead?”

“Actually, the one above us has a malfunctioning target sensor, so there's only two aiming at me,” Rhys points out, not actually intending to do so but too panicked to notice, because if one is already down, and if he could just distract Handsome Jack for a moment, a _second_ , just enough to activate his palm computer, he could probably hack one of the other two and use it to destroy the last one, and then he could—

Strong fingers take his chin into a firm hold, turning his head back to look at Handsome Jack's frowning face, and Rhys' ECHO eye tells him: 'Handsome Jack, age unknown, likes: power, money, murder—

—which is just _super helpful_ , thank you _so much_ , ECHO eye! Rhys blinks rapidly and the world loses its blue tint.

“You are dead meat if you so much as twitch,” Jack informs him conversationally, and Rhys stops breathing, unable to keep himself from shivering when the fingers of Jack's other hand force his eyelid and the skin under the ECHO eye away from it, revealing it to the air and Handsome Jack's scrutiny.

Jack hums, the sound almost drowned out completely by the blood rushing through Rhys' ears. “Interesting,” Jack says after a long, long moment, finally letting up from Rhys' watering ECHO eye.

Rhys presses it shut tightly, not even aware of the tears falling from it. The fingers on his chin tilt his head roughly to the side, revealing Rhys' neck and the tattoo there to Jack's critical gaze. He somehow manages to suppress the pitiful whine.

“You're going to follow me now, and if you so much as _look_ in the wrong direction, kiddo...” Jack's voice lowers, his eyes blazing. “You are going to be nothing more than a mess for some unlucky bastard to clean up. Do you understand?”

He nods, and Jack lets go of his chin, slapping his cheek once.

Handsome Jack turns around, walking away at a brisk pace, and Rhys inhales shakily, stumbling after him, cramp forgotten.

He can't help it, though. He activates the ECHO eye again, wanting to at least _see_ his inevitable demise, as if that would make it any better.

Rhys never noticed how many hidden turrets there are in Helios' hallways, and he _really_ could have done without ever knowing that.

* * *

He follows Handsome Jack in a daze, the panic inside of him boiled down to something almost mild. Rhys is actually sort of amazed that he's still breathing, considering what he did. There's so many stories about Jack killing people just because their wardrobe offended him or because they were breathing too loudly in his general vicinity, Rhys really shouldn't be alive anymore. He wonders if Vaughn and Yvette are already distributing his things between them or if maybe they're already on the next shuttle leaving Helios, just in case Rhys manages to get them killed as well.

Or maybe Rhys is in shock? He's never been in shock before, so he wouldn't actually know if he was.

It's pretty late now, but there's still the occasional employee crossing their path. They all scatter quickly once they've gotten a look at Jack's face, and Rhys is kind of relieved that he can't see it.

If he'd look at anything but Handsome Jack's straight back, he's pretty sure he'd just try to run after all. He's dimly aware that he's shivering, that there's too much air on his naked skin. Seriously, whose brilliant idea was it to wander around in really short shorts and a tank top? Oh, right. His own, and now he's going to get murdered wearing almost nothing. Great.

Handsome Jack stops suddenly, and Rhys' last step echoes loudly around them, so hasty is he to come to a standstill as well, sure that bumping into Jack would be the last straw. Jack glances at him over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised.

Rhys stares down at Jack's shoes, holding his arms tense at his sides. He notices that Jack doesn't actually do anything to call the elevator to them, but the doors slide open only seconds later. Maybe the mechanism gets a signal from Jack's portable computer or maybe it's somehow coded to his presence—

The doors slide shut behind him and Rhys wasn't actually aware of following Handsome Jack into the elevator, blind to his surroundings like a lamb led to slaughter.

The mental image is enough to bring him back to himself, and he becomes aware of the cold sweat that has broken out on his body, making him shiver even more.

He's in an elevator with Handsome Jack, who is leaning against the wall opposite of him, arms crossed in front of his chest, still looking at Rhys, probably going through all the horrifying, awful ways he's going to kill him once they reach their destination.

“Rhys,” Yvette says inside of his head, and Rhys was never happier to hear her calm voice, “listen carefully, you need to—“

She's cut off, and Rhys almost wails at the loss. He wants to activate his palm computer, try to reach her again, because Yvette definitely has a plan to get him out of this alive, which is super great if he could only _listen to it_. They always wondered if Handsome Jack's office had its own, secure network, and well. Now they know. 

The elevator doors slide open again just as Handsome Jack says slowly, “You've got to be kidding me.” He takes two long strides towards Rhys, shoves him sideways against the wall of the elevator.

The impact makes Rhys gasp, and the metal is cold against his skin, a stark contrast to the palm Handsome Jack is pressing against his chest, which feels almost _hot_ , even through his tank top.

“You're a fucking _omega_.” Jack is scowling at him, a snarl twisting his mouth, and Rhys doesn't understand—

Except, Leander was practically rubbing himself all over him earlier, of course Rhys would still smell of the beta, his omega scent is much more subtle, easy to be masked.

Handsome Jack is just staring at him with dark eyes, and Rhys wonders if maybe he should say something, anything.

The doors slide shut again. Neither of them move.

Can Jack feel his roaring pulse through the hand he has on Rhys' chest? He must, because it's almost deafening to Rhys' own ears. 

Rhys inhales shakily, and then he _jolts_ , because Handsome Jack must be the best thing he ever smelt, dark, dangerous, pure _alpha_ in a way that makes him want to offer his neck up right away, and Rhys inhales again greedily, embarrassingly loud in this enclosed space. He relaxes almost instantly, eyelids heavy, body now resting easily against the wall.

A low, almost inaudible growl. The alpha's eyes are mere slits when he leans forward, roughly wrenching Rhys' head to the side before he presses his nose to Rhys' bared neck.

Handsome Jack is an alpha and Rhys is an omega, and Jack is _scenting_ him right now, and Rhys wants to hold onto that thought in what might very well be the last moments in his life.

The alpha makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, and Rhys fingers are useless fists against the wall behind him, which he doesn't really understand, because he wants to touch Jack, he _needs_ to, there's nothing more important—

Jack hisses. “Fuck.” The doors slide open again, and the alpha slips through them before they're even fully open, leaving Rhys leaning after him, blinking stupidly at empty air.

“ _Heel_ ,” comes the barked command, and Rhys almost stumbles over his own two legs rushing to obey him.

He's never been in Handsome Jack's office before, and if Rhys wasn't so confused, wavering between scared and aroused, he'd love to really take it in, to scan every speck of dust with his ECHO eye. As it is, he follows Jack's purposeful strides hastily, attention focused entirely on the alpha's tense back.

Rhys remains standing at the bottom of the stairs leading up to Handsome Jack's desk, wringing his hands nervously while Jack turns around to him, leaning against the desk and staring down at Rhys as if he's nothing but dirt on his pristine floor.

Which cools the heat in his veins a bit. Right. Handsome Jack doesn't _do_ omegas. And now he's going to kill Rhys in painful and imaginative ways, and Rhys' last thought will have been: I wish he had fucked me before murdering me.

Apparently he really just is this sad and pathetic. No wonder his friends left him to face his terrible fate alone.

“Alright, kiddo,” Jack drawls, his arms crossed in front of his chest, “You threatened me, and that is something I only tolerate from very special friends.” He narrows his eyes. “And definitely not from my employees, even if they're dressed like you are. Give me _one_ good reason why I should allow you to keep breathing my air.”

Okay, so here's the thing. Rhys can talk big if he gets a heads-up. He's a fantastic bullshitter, just ask his friends. Ex-friends. Whatever. But when he's surprised or stressed? His mouth is a terrible weapon primed on getting Rhys into trouble. Case in point.

“I could blow you,” Rhys blurts out, because Handsome Jack smells really nice, and that's kind of why he's here, right? He bites his lip. Smooth Rhys, really smooth. He should just go ahead and space himself, make it easier for Jack.

Jack raises an eyebrow, whistles. “I expected you to drop to your knees, but not like this. You're full of surprised aren't you.” The alpha's eyebrow is arched up high on his forehead, but Rhys is still alive, so. 

Go, team Rhys! 

But then Jack says slowly, a mean twist to his lips, “I don't think so. Who knows what kind of diseases you carry around in your body, considering you seem to get around a lot.” 

Rhys is actually confused for a second, because he doesn't? Sure, he likes sex, sex is awesome, but he's also very picky.

It dawns on him then, and his fingers dig into his upper legs. Rhys smelled strongly of a beta, and that's what Jack's referring to. 

And if Rhys hadn't been so terribly picky, so damn _proud_ , and had just taken off his metal arm— He wouldn't be facing a horrible death by Handsome Jack's hands. He would be somewhere nice, getting fucked by Leander right now. 

Disbelieving laughter bubbles out of his mouth before he can stop it. “I _wish_.” Rhys bites his tongue immediately, but it’s too late, and the alpha's looking at him now with both eyebrows raised.

Well, at least Rhys is consistent in running his stupid mouth around Handsome Jack.

The alpha whistles again. “Wow, kiddo. I honestly don’t know if you're stupid or suicidal. Or maybe a really terrible combination of both.” He shakes his head, huffs. “Always thought your kind was practically designed for survival.”

The way he says 'your kind' must be how other people talk about 'Skag shit' or 'monthly evaluations'. And if there's one thing that never fails to raise Rhys' hackles — apart from disdain for his cybernetic enhancements — it's somebody looking down on him for being an omega. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, mimicking the alpha's posture, raises his chin. “My name is Rhys, and we can't all be a predictable, walking cliché.” If he's going to die now, he might as well die with _some_ dignity still intact, right?

Handsome Jack stares at him for a moment, expression unreadable, and Rhys does his best not to fidget, to keep up the brave facade.

He hopes Vaughn and Yvette are going to find somewhere nice to start from scratch, somewhere without any Vasquez' and Handsome Jacks.

And then Rhys blinks disbelievingly, because Handsome Jack _laughs_.

He leans back on the desk, activating the integrated computer screen on it. “Weird name,” Jack says absently, still chuckling, and Rhys can see a profile picture of himself, and then an alarming wealth of information which he would never be able to access himself.

Jack deactivates the screen after another moment of reading, jumping off the desk again. He strolls down the stairs, somehow still managing to give off the alarming vibe of a predator, and Rhys swallows.

He takes a hasty step back, only just keeping Jack from stepping on his shoes when the alpha barrels right into Rhys' personal space as if he owns it.

Which, fine. He sort of does, but that doesn't mean Rhys has to _like_ it. Rhys bites his tongue, sure that another stupid comment now would only make his death even uglier.

“Alright, _Rhys_ ,” Jack says, drawing out the word until it doesn't even sound like Rhys' name anymore. His hands move to open his belt, and Rhys can feel his eyes widening. “Show me that your mouth is good for more than one thing.”

This... this is apparently really happening. Well, at this point, he might as well go out with a fucking _bang_. Rhys sinks down to his knees almost without hesitation, staring up at the smirking alpha in defiance. 

Jack's smirk widens. “Hands behind your back, and I better not see them anywhere else.”

Rhys obeys, gripping his left wrist with his metal fingers, keeping both from trembling too much.

The alpha pushes his trousers and pants down, only enough to reveal the dark curls and his cock, half hard and impressive enough already to make Rhys lick his lips in uneasy anticipation.

Jack waves at his cock with one hand, the other resting loosely at his hip, and he tells Rhys with no small amount of glee, “It's not gonna suck itself.”

Wow, in his fantasies, Handsome Jack was never this much of an annoying asshole. Rhys inhales deeply, filling his lungs with the heady scent of the alpha's arousal. Predictably, it helps calm his irritated thoughts and frenzied nerves. At least Jack's cock doesn't disappoint, and Rhys leans forward, swallowing half of it, getting to work on making it harden completely.

“Damn, kiddo. You're really thirsty for it, aren't you?” Jack chuckles, fisting one hand into Rhys' hair.

Even if the shorts don't do much to hide his own growing arousal, Rhys is pretty sure that this blowjob would be a lot more fun for him if the alpha would keep his unnecessary observations to himself. He can't give a verbal contra, and so he curls his tongue under the head of Jack's cock, pressing it against the roof of his mouth, mindful to keep his teeth out of the way.

The alpha's eyelids lower, his voice a deep murmur. “I should give the guy who taught you that a raise.”

Rhys swallows a groan, and Jack's hardening cock in the next breath, hoping to make him finally shut up. His gag reflex makes itself known, but he ignores it, taking more of the alpha into his mouth.

Jack makes an appreciative noise, his nails dragging over Rhys' scalp. “You were _really_ gagging for my cock, hm, kiddo?” There's amusement in the alpha's voice, as if he's the one doing Rhys a favour right now.

And ignoring for a moment that he's absolutely correct, that Rhys has dreamed about this for years, and that there's probably a telling dark spot spreading on the front of his shorts—

Rhys doesn't tolerate such an amount of smugness from just anyone, not even from Handsome Jack himself.

He relaxes his throat consciously, closes his eyes, and takes Jack's cock completely into his mouth, into his throat, until his nose is pressed against the alpha's dark curls.

Jack digs his nails into the back of Rhys' head, letting out a surprised moan, and it's totally worth the tears welling up in Rhys' eyes.

Rhys doesn't wait for Jack to recover his wits. He hollows his cheeks, bobbing up and down, enjoying how heavy the cock dragging over his tongue is. Handsome Jack doesn't only smell good, he tastes _even better_ , so good it's almost unfair. Rhys sucks the drops of come from the tip greedily before swallowing Jack's cock completely again, eyes shut now in something that almost feels like delight.

It was only a matter of time until the rest of his body caught on, and he presses his legs together, whining around the cock in his mouth when slickness starts dripping from his terribly empty hole.

He _needs_ the alpha's cock there, all of his instincts are singing for it, to have that length split him open. But that would also mean he wouldn't have it in his mouth any longer, and it's perfect there, stretching his jaw just wide enough for it to be uncomfortable, and the _taste_ —

Rhys is torn by the mixed signals in his brain, urging him into two directions. He shudders, grazing his teeth along the alpha's cock carefully, wanting to make it _good_ for him.

A low hiss. The fingers in his hair tighten their hold on him, and then he's dragged off the thick length, sudden enough it leaves him coughing.

Rhys blinks his eyes open a bit, gasping for air, cheeks wet. He leans forward again immediately to suck the curved and glistening cock back into his mouth, but the alpha holds him fast, now both of his hands fisted into Rhys' hair, cruelly denying him the cock right in front of his face.

He whimpers, staring up at Jack with blurry eyes. Did he do something wrong? Did he displease the alpha?

“How bad do you want it, babe?” Jack's voice is gravelly, rough, and together with the endearment it flows into Rhys' ears, his head, spreading a new sort of warmth through his body.

“Please,” Rhys begs, sounding wrecked and not caring at all.

Jack considers him through lidded eyes. He moves Rhys' forward slightly, dragging his damp cock over Rhys' cheek, slowly, leisurely, and Rhys wants it, needs it, to at least be able to get his tongue on it—

Rough palms frame his face, large and wonderful, and Rhys moans. His cock is so hard that it hurts, the shorts giving it no room at all. Combined with the slick leaking out of his opening, he's probably ruining them for good.

“Open up wide, babe,” Jack says quietly, and Rhys lets his mouth fall open before the alpha has even finished speaking. Jack slides back into Rhys with a long sigh, ending in a groan when he fits his cock completely into Rhys' eager mouth.

With his nose pressed into jack's dark curls, and with the heavy, large cock back in him, Rhys hums, feeling so satisfied that his own needs become distant.

He lets the alpha fuck his mouth then, lets him take and take and take, while Rhys is staring up at Jack with something very much like awe, basking in the intense gaze on himself, and in the surety with which he's being handled, the controlled force of the hands on his face.

Everything else is of no concern, not his aching knees, not the small, needy sounds he makes or the way they echo in the large room.

A growl, and Jack comes, flooding his mouth with thick warmth, and Rhys sucks and swallows greedily, wanting every last drop of it.

“Guess your mouth really is good for one other thing.” Jack pulls free of Rhys with a loud, wet noise, and Rhys licks the softening cock with a long, wistful swipe of his tongue.

The alpha chuckles breathlessly, and the sound shivers down Rhys' spine like a caress.

Rhys is panting, shivering, and he whines when Jack's thumbs press against his bottom lip, feeling red and swollen.

Jack makes a thoughtful noise. Then he pulls his trousers up again, hands resting on his hips, just looking at Rhys, and Rhys wonders very, very distantly if he's going to die now.

It doesn't seem important, not when his cock is hard and leaking, his ass needing to be filled. He licks his lips absently, savouring the taste of the alpha.

Sudden pressure against his cock, and Rhys shouts, arching up against the shoe Jack is grinding against his groin. “I wonder if you can get off like this.” Jack chuckles again, putting more force behind it, making it almost painful for Rhys. “Just from humping Handsome Jack's shoe.”

He moans, rubbing himself shamelessly against the alpha's sole, so close, he can feel it bubbling inside of his veins. His metal fingers dig into the soft flesh of his wrist, not wanting to disobey the alpha's orders, even when sparks flash across his vision—

“Don't come.”

Jack's calm voice cuts through him, and he bites his tongue, keeping the desperate wail inside. He's shaking with the effort of will it takes not to press himself against the alpha's shoe, now simply resting on his cock in sweet, terrible torture. Rhys stares up at Jack's amused face, his chest heaving, ready to beg if that's what the alpha wants.

The shoe moves away from his cock, the tip of it pressing against Rhys' balls, and he whimpers, blinking away sweat and tears from his eyes.

“I knew we made these laughably tiny shorts, but I've never actually seen anybody wear them before today.” Jack presses his sole back against the side of Rhys' cock, and he bites his lip, digs his metal fingers into his arm even harder. 

At this rate he's going to come, simply from the alpha's voice, from his taste in Rhys' mouth and from his scent, a rush from Rhys' lungs right into his head. But he can be good, he can be patient, he just needs to follow the alpha's orders—

The inescapable pressure moves back to his cock and Rhys sobs weakly, body bowing forward but unable to look away from Jack's amused face.

“In retrospect, I'm glad your evident lack of dignity allowed you to wear them, because they really made me want to take a bite out of your cute little ass.” The alpha taps his chin, grinning. “That didn't happen, obviously, but I do like a mouth that knows how to properly worship my cock.”

Rhys is staring at the alpha's moving lips, deaf to his words, trembling with the effort to remain still. He whines, presses his heel against his ass in a weak mockery of what he needs. “ _Please_.”

The alpha crouches down suddenly, one hand gripping Rhys' chin.

He doesn't know if he's relieved or sad about the shoe being gone from his cock, and he looks dazedly at Jack's eyes, bright and so close they are all he can see.

“Now, now, babe. Don't make this all about you,” Jack admonishes him. “You really sweetened my evening, isn't that enough for you?”

Rhys breathes in, filling his chest with the alpha's scent, blinking slowly. He... he did? 

Jack scratches the underside of his chin with a fingernail, humming quietly.

He did. He gave Handsome Jack and blowjob, and Handsome Jack _enjoyed it_. Rhys feels his aching lips stretch into a smile. 

Jack chuckles. “That's the spirit I want to see in my employees.” The mask evens out again, turning serious. “Now, tell me: Is there another alpha who's gonna be pissed about me jizzing all over their precious little omega?”

Rhys frowns. Another alpha? He exhales in one loud gust of air. Yvette, yes, of course, and he almost laughs then, pure joy blossoming in his chest. Yvette is going to be so happy, and so _proud_ of him for making her plan work. “No, not really,” he says, half truthfully, voice a rough whisper.

The alpha raises an eyebrow, one corner of his mouth curling up into a smirk. “Damn, I really fucked the last braincells right out of your head.” His other hand fits itself around the back of Rhys' neck, forcing his head up and closer to Jack's face. “When Handsome Jack deigns to ask you if there's somebody else, then there _is_ nobody else, _never_.” He shakes Rhys slightly, voice a hiss. “Do you understand?”

He inhales shakily, body thrumming with something his scrambled brain can't put a name on. “Yes, sir.”

Jack grins. He licks over Rhys' mouth once before letting go of him. “Bit late for the show of respect, but I'm going to let that slide.” He stands up, sceptically eyeing a still kneeling Rhys. “Do you need a written invitation or something?”

Honestly, Rhys isn't sure how that's supposed to help. He can't feel his legs anymore, and— “My arms...?”

The alpha stares at him for a moment. Then he groans shaking his head. “Use your damn head. Playtime's over, of course you can move your arms again.”

Rhys bites his lip, face hot. His left wrist hurts, and is probably going to bruise spectacularly. He places both palms on the floor, slowly pushing himself up and hissing out a breath when his knees protest loudly and painfully. The front and back of his shorts are damp and uncomfortable, but the buzz of arousal is still thrumming through his body, making that thought fade away again quickly.

Jack nods at him, arms crossed in front of his chest. “You're going to show your ass here again tomorrow evening. And now scam as fast as your legs can carry you before I change my mind.”

“Yes, sir,” he answers, meekly and obedient. Rhys turns around slowly, leaving Handsome Jack's office just as he entered it earlier: dazed.

He sucked off Handsome Jack, and he was so good at it, Handsome Jack wants to see him again. If he didn't have an audience, he would totally fist bump the air right now. Go, Team Rhys!

“And no wanking off until then!” Jack calls after him, and even that can't dim the euphoria rushing through his veins.

He leaves the office, practically floating, vaguely wondering if he should check Yvette's or Vaughn's and his place first.

“— and that's why you really need to let me in and speak with Handsome Jack _right now_ ,” a woman says on his left, and Rhys is walking towards the voice even before he fully registers it as belonging to Yvette.

Yvette has her battle dress on, black with golden accents, wearing matching stilettos. She's talking with one of the two guards posted at the elevator, hands curled into fists, clearly agitated.

Rhys plasters himself against Yvette's tense back. “Hi,” he says happily, ignoring the guards' existence, apparently for the second time today.

A sharp inhale, and Rhys is pretty sure Yvette's fingers twitch towards the pistol strapped to the guard's side for a moment. She turns quickly then, recognition already visible on the astounded expression on her face. “Rhys,” she whispers, smiling widely for a second before quickly collecting herself again, putting on a stern mask. “There you are, boy. What did you get yourself into, making me worry like this?”

He smiles demurely, rubbing his cheek against her shoulder. “Sorry, Ma'am.” He whimpers pitifully, playing his part. He has no idea what's going on, isn't even sure how he managed to get out of Handsome Jack's office alive, but Yvette needs him to play a role, and that's what he'll do. Hell, today he's apparently on a roll, he could probably be _anyone_ 's omega. Rhys frowns against Yvette's skin. Well, maybe not Vasquez'. He's not _that_ out of it.

“I can call Handsome Jack for you now, Miss,” the guard says, and it's difficult to tell with the ugly helmet, but there might be some humour in the undertone of his distorted voice.

Yvette curls her palm around Rhys' neck tattoo, grounding and directing him. “That won't be necessary anymore. I have what I came you, thank you for your time.”

He follows her obediently, plastering himself against her side again once they've entered the elevator. “Hi,” he repeats, pressing his nose against her hair, inhaling her comforting scent.

She turns to him, taking his face gently into her hands and examining him closely. Her heels are high enough so that's she almost eye to eye with him, and Rhys always really liked that about these stilettos. “On a scale from one to five, how out of it are you, Rhys?”

The concern in her voice, and the deep lines on her forehead clear his head slightly. “Closer to five than four, I think,” he answers after a moment, voice rough.

Yvette nods, tapping his lips once with a delicate finger, and Rhys hums, remaining silent while they're on their way down, even though there's _so much_ he wants to tell her.

They leave the elevator, Rhys' metal arm around Yvette's waist. Her hand is placed possessively over the left side of his neck, the fingers of her other hand holding onto his free one in front of them.

“Check if we're good,” Yvette says quietly, and Rhys blinks, needing a moment to understand what she means. 

Oh, right. Helios. Eyes and ears everywhere. He activates his ECHO eye, but the cameras aren't following them, just seemingly doing their thing. “All clear,” he whispers back before giggling helplessly.

Yvette sighs, strokes over his neck. “I don't have to ask what happened in Handsome Jack's office, because you look and sound the part.” She tilts her head to him, a wry grin on her mouth. “I wish I had bought my blazer. Even if your shorts didn't look scandalous before, they certainly do now.”

Rhys leans forward slightly, checking for himself. His cock is a visible outline, thanks to the still low burning arousal in his stomach, and if you look a bit more closely, there's definitely a darker patch there. He hums, shrugging with one shoulder. “I sucked off Handsome Jack!” he informs her, grinning widely.

She nudges her hips against his, voice quiet. “Volume, Rhys.”

Oh, right. Eyes and ears everywhere. He nods seriously. ”Sorry.”

“Tell me what happened. I came over as soon as Vaughn called me, but he must have already been half delirious with panic by then, because he said you tried to choke Handsome Jack.”

He smiles dreamily. Compared to how his first meeting with Jack tended to play out in his fantasies, reality probably beat all of them. “Oh, I totally did.” Rhys presses his nose against Yvette's temple, adds in a shouted whisper, “And then I gave him a blowjob in his office!”

Yvette inhales sharply, her fingers tightening on his. “Did he do that?” she asks, looking at their clasped hands.

Rhys follows her gaze, settling on the already darkening skin of his wrist. “No, that was me. Kinda stupid, actually.” He makes a mental note to himself: Don't use your metal fingers to grip another part of your body.

After a moment, she accepts his words with a nod of her head. “Alright. Do we need to take the next shuttle off of Helios?”

He chuckles softly, licking his lips, absently chasing a trace of Jack's taste on them. “Actually, he wants to see me again tomorrow.” Rhys winks at Yvette, still grinning. “He said I sweetened his evening! Can you believe that?” Handsome Jack's cock. In his mouth. It feels a bit like one of his wet dreams, but that might just be the happy daze talking.

“Oh, I know how talented you are with your mouth.” Yvette laughs softly, scratching fondly behind his ear.

Rhys hums, probably still red in the face but blushing anew under her praise.

“We should hurry a bit then, if you're up to it. Vaughn's probably having a heart attack as we're speaking.”

That would be _awful_. He frowns at her. “I could call him, tell him I'm fine?”

Yvette shakes her head, mouth a tense line. “Too dangerous. Handsome Jack knows who you are, and I'd rather not give him too much information, just in case he's keeping taps on you now.”

“Oh.” See, Rhys didn't even think of that. And considering how great he's feeling right now, he'd probably end up blurting out something really stupid and dangerous about The Plan.

“Don't worry about it, we're almost there,” Yvette says quietly, pressing a lingering kiss on his temple. “When the line to you went dead, I thought—“ She swallows, closes her eyes for a moment.

Rhys pats her hip gently with his metal hand, making a soothing sound in the back of his throat. “I'm good, Yvette. Better than good.” He laughs quietly. “I sucked off Handsome Jack.”

Yvette huffs, visibly relaxing again. “That you did, Rhys.”

They're quiet for a while, and even if Rhys is still more floating than walking, he's a bit relieved when they barely pass anyone on their way back to the apartment.

“What was your plan?” he asks her absently, once they've entered their complex.

She chuckles, shaking her head softly. “Don't laugh, but we were really pressed for time. I was just telling the guard what I would tell Handsome Jack, once I got into his office: You're my bonded omega, and we had a bad fight. You ran off somewhere, distressed and definitely not accountable for anything you might have done in my absence.” Yvette grins at him wryly. “Like, for example, _attacking Handsome Jack_.”

“Yes, that's me, definitely unaccountable.” He nods, smiling. “What then? It wouldn't take him long to find out that we're not bonded.”

They enter the hallway leading to their apartment, and Yvette hums. “Knowing Vaughn, the next ship out of here already has our names on it.”

Rhys smiles, opening their door with a blink of his ECHO eye. “I think it was a good plan,” he tells her quietly, and then they both come to an abrupt stop.

The living room is a mess, more so than it usually is. There are three bags on the desk, stuffed full enough Rhys wonders how they were supposed to carry them, especially while running for their lives.

Yvette gently disentangles herself from him just as Vaughn stumbles into the living room, looking frantic and pale. The breath of air he lets out when he sees them is loud enough to be heard on the other end of the room. “You're still alive!” He's staring at Rhys with wide eyes, looking him up and down, almost stumbling over a chair on his way over to them. He presses a few buttons on his glasses, attention never really leaving Rhys. “Okay, we're now 10 million richer, the next shuttle will leave in less than eight minutes, and—“

“Heya, buddy.” Rhys opens his arms wide, grinning at Vaughn. “We're good, no need to flee the premisses.”

Vaughn looks at him, then at Yvette, back at Rhys. He pushes a few buttons again, fingers shaking. “Okay. We're now 10 million poorer.” He swallows visibly, voice faint. “Explain, please?”

Rhys hugs him close in the next second, pressing his face into Vaughn's hair. “Dude,” he says happily, “you'll never believe what happened.”

“Rhys' blowjob skills saved his life,” Yvette interjects from where she's leaning against the closed door.

He pouts at her for stealing his thunder, but he can't keep the grin off his mouth for long when Vaughn's arms come around him hesitantly, fingers digging into Rhys' back. “I sucked off Handsome Jack!”

Vaughn pushes Rhys away again quickly, patting him down with hectic hands. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Did he try anything weird?”

Rhys laughs, feeling himself slip fully into a comfortable haze again. He presses Vaughn against himself once more, resting his cheek on Vaughn's head and beckoning Yvette closer with one hand. “Come on, I promise we won't wrinkle your dress too much.”

Yvette laughs, shaking her head. “Like I care about the dress.” She walks over to them quickly, slotting herself right into the space they left open for her.

He hums happily, closing his eyes. “I'm never brushing my teeth again,” he informs his friends earnestly. He can still taste Jack on his tongue, still _feel_ his cock, recall the alpha's scent. His body shudders just imaging what Jack might have planned for him for tomorrow.

Vaughn slaps him on the back, laughter in his voice. “Bro, _gross_.”

“No, seriously.” He seeks out Yvette's still worried gaze, touching her shoulder with gentle fingers. “Best plan _ever_.”

Yvette smiles at him, and Rhys knows they're going to be fine.

A sharp inhale, and then Vaughn's poking at Rhys' shorts disbelievingly. “What the hell is this, a mutated wristband?” He looks up at Rhys, frank disappointment on his face. “I can't believe you're wearing this.”

Rhys giggles helplessly, pressing the smile on his lips against Vaughn's forehead while Yvette tries to hide her relieved laughter in his shoulder.


End file.
